Llama Karma

Tempting our group of llamas up from the bottom of the field didn't take much. A few whistles and a rattled feed bucket and there they were, all harnessed, loaded up and waiting to go.

The very idea of gambolling across the North York Moors with a faintly ridiculous creature in tow had caused much mirth among our friends. After all, you can't even ride a llama because their spines won't take the weight; all they do is carry your packed lunch for you.

But there's just something about them that makes you smile. Call it llama karma. Our four - Jose, Miguel, Carlos and Pedro had all the attributes that make this native of South America so lovable: great big eyes with extravagant lashes, velvety-soft chubby chops with tickly whiskers, a wodge of fluff and fur atop four spindly legs. Bury your fingers under the silky overcoat and it's all thick, springy, warm wool underneath.

And they have the most delightful, comforting smell: like cheesy dogs' paws. Sadly, they don't take much to being snuggled or having their ears stroked, though a gentle pat is tolerated. Daft llamas. Before we set off from Staintondale, near Scarborough, headquarters of Wellington Lodge Llama Treks, we took a lesson in handling them from owner Bruce Wright. One yank of the lead and a confident 'Walk on!' should set them in motion.

Two tugs backwards and 'Stand!' should stop them. Our llamas were trained - Bruce rules them with firm hand and oodles of affection - but, being skittish by nature, they can be spooked by unfamiliar objects. So the correct procedure to warn one's camelid of, well, anything approaching to say quite loudly 'Car!', be it mountain bike, combine harvester or nuclear submarine (they can't tell the difference anyway).

Blow gently onto their noses and whisper 'Good' to calm them down.Finally, under no circumstances wrap your llama's lead around your wrist: should he decide to 'sprong' - an erratic bound much like an antelope might perform to escape a pouncing lion - you'll literally be dragged through a hedge backwards.Llamas weigh up to 28 stone, can be 6ft from top to toe, and are strong little devils, cheerfully lugging a quarter to a third of their body weight around. By the time we left, Jose and co were making insistent humming noises.

They were impatient to get going, Bruce, a veritable llama whisperer, translated. With me and my llama-loving friend Elizabeth, were Ruth, Bruce's wife, Matthew, who was celebrating his 16th birthday, and his parents, Jackie and Tim. There are never more than 20 people on one trek and children aged seven and over are welcome, though dogs aren't.

It was a gorgeous spring weekend and the countryside was sprinkled with lemon primroses, narcissi and celandines. Though the pathways were muddy from a recent downpour, our travelling companions were nonchalantly surefooted. Clever llamas. Seen one llama, seen them all, you might think, but as we trekked - six or seven miles in four hours, with a break for lunch - their personalities began to show. Jose, the oldest at ten, is the aristocrat, with downcast eyes and the snootiest of expressions. He takes exception to hats or strong perfume and may well refuse to promenade alongside the wearer of either.

Carlos, who's nine, has a white bib and protruding teeth and is the most easily spooked. Miguel, eight, is the most vocal, humming his heart out when he's bored, hungry, lonely - you name it. Pedro, seven, is the cutest. He hasn't yet learned to be as aloof as his pals and regularly snuffles at whoever's ears are nearest, man's or beast's.To prevent distraction in the unlikely event that they meet lady llamas while out, three have been gelded.

It'll be Jose's lucky day should Bruce wish to breed llamas later.While we enjoyed lunch sandwiches, wine and a slice of birthday cake Bruce and Ruth told us about their unusual enterprise, set up as a diversification from farming. Llamas are relatively easy to keep, said Bruce, as long as you know what you're doing. They do have to be groomed daily in inclement weather; mischievous Pedro goes straight out afterwards and rolls in the mud. Naughty llama.

So, why trek with a llama? Apart from the joys of strolling through countryside unfettered by a heavy rucksack - just bring walking shoes, kagoul, camera, poncho optional - everyone we met stopped for a chat; cars slowed to get a better look; the astonished faces of sheep and horses appeared over every fence as we lolloped past.

Watching the equally inquisitive llamas nosing over hedgerows was enchanting. As we ate, the llamas were tethered and left to munch on the vegetation. Pedro enjoyed issuing shrill alarm calls every time a dog bounded past. Starting up like an old rusty lawnmower, he clucked and tutted while his whole body bounced on his legs as if his hip joints were springs.

Llamas don't like dogs and the sudden appearance of one provoked old Jose to 'sprong' into the brambles.Unforgivably, he kicked out at his master as he tried to extricate the prickles from his cotton wool. 'Silly old lad,' said Bruce. Contrary to popular belief, llamas spit only at each other, usually in tussles over food, when they might also neck wrestle or nibble each other's legs.

A chrous of hums told us it was time to start walking again and we loaded up the packs - each llama carries 40lb to 50lb of picnic equipment, including stools, flasks and lunch boxes - and headed for home. Next day, we were joined by Rose, normally to be found behind the posh chocolates counter at Fenwick. She had brought 11 friends from Leicester to help celebrate her birthday.

One was wearing a Peruvian-style knitted hat. Jose eyed her suspiciously. Our walk took in picturesque Ravenscar, Robin Hood's Bay and the old Scarborough-to-Whitby railway. Suddenly, a nosey hound decided to huff at Carlos. In the blink of an eye, he and Pedro, who'd spronged in sympathy, had escaped their custodians, bounded through the shrubbery and were left looking soulfully down from the ledge above.

Fortunately, while Jose hummed at them to keep their spirits up, Bruce easily retrieved them. Silly llamas. Not so silly trekkers, who did remember to release the leads. My friend Elizabeth, who had been spronged up a muddy bank earlier because she failed to let go of Jose, likened the experience to being dragged up a hill by Linford Christie. Yes, quipped a fellow trekker, and he's even got his own lunch box.Which is more than can be said for Miguel, Carlos and Pedro. Poor little llamas.